Sins of Survival_A Trinity Coven Tradition_The Dark Eyed Man_Maiden Voyage
Catalog Guide:
Sins of Survival
A voice sounded nearby, signaling the danger closing in. With my luck it was probably too late already. Trembling, I slid deeper into the shrubs that were starting to scratch through my protective clothing and pull blood from my skin. Couldn’t be helped. Surface wounds couldn’t even begin to compare to what ailments would befall mwww.onedoor.cce if I was to be discovered. Branches cracked loudly to my left and I held in a gasp as I tried to turn around without giving my position away. They had been on my right just a moment ago, and not that close. Could there be more than one? There’s no way he could be th...
A Trinity Coven Tradition
The sound of the brush running through my hair becomes monotonous as I stare at myself in the mirror. I feel it pull at each strand and look up at my mother standing behind me. Her face wears a grim expression as she studies each stroke, making sure to pull it back into two perfect ponytails, just like hers. Her small frame adorns a velvet blue dress that falls just below her knees. She wears a black, silk ribbon around her neck and white, sheer stockings on her legs. Her makeup is powdery white with a small freckle painted onto her cheekbone, right under her eye. Eventually, she ties off my p...
The Dark Eyed Man
TW: drugging, kidnapping "Have you seen him?" "Seen who?” I had to follow her eyes to find the man she was staring at. The problem was not the way she was staring at him, but the fact that he was also staring at us, was he smiling? I don't know. The first thing of him I saw were his black eyes, maybe they looked black because there was not too much light in the bar and when I realized he was smiling at us, I looked somewhere else. “I’ve seen him, can you please stop staring at him? It’s weird" I whispered to Leigh. "I can't, he's doing the same thing, and who am I trying to fool? He’s really h...
Maiden Voyage
Vestal, Ohio The heat. The damn, ever-loving summer heat. It covered like a veil, even at 11:04 p.m., according to the clock on the squad’s dash. A single drop of sweat ran from Officer Todd Fowler’s hairline behind his right ear onto the collar of his navy uniform shirt, which was bear-hugged by a twenty-pound tactical vest that did nothing but absorb all that heat. Hell of a night for my maiden voyage, he thought, as his eyes flitted from the clock to the blue-screened laptop in front of the passenger seat to the unopened bottle of Remy Martin. Who even drinks cognac these days? he wondere...